Page 2 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

She’s not always nice, but she’s always kind.

They kissed once, and both decided they were friends only and that Cam was definitely straight.

Frankie took offence for three seconds until Cam told her that if she didn’t want to kiss a girl as hot as Frankie, then she must only be into guys.

It’s not true, because Frankie’s not hot, but it made her smile all the same.

Cam makes her feel safe in a way few other people do.

Frankie could have a breakdown over nothing, and Cam would understand.

She could want to try a new restaurant hours away, and twenty minutes later, Cam would be in the passenger seat in a matching tracksuit set, lipliner on, and with three pairs of earrings to choose from.

Frankie gives Cam a quick once-over to see if she thinks she’s staying out the entire night or if she’ll go home the moment Andrew calls.

Cam is in a tiny skirt and a cute crop top.

Cam loves to dress up, and it looks like she’s dressed up enough that she’ll go home alone.

Score. Frankie hates Andrew. Cam shouldn’t change what she’s wearing for a man, let alone Andrew, who is neither hot enough nor good enough to be called a man.

However, the last time she saw him, he was fuming at Cam because she had the audacity to look sexy.

What is it with men that think they want a bad bitch but can’t handle having a bad bitch ?

Cam takes a sip of her drink, and her large hoops swing against her cheeks. “There’s a group of geeks over there,” she says, “but we might be alright if it’s pop culture or music.”

“Geeks as in people in glasses, or am I gonna see some plaid?” Frankie asks.

Mali slurps and swallows her drink quickly to answer. She looks like a cartoon fairy. “Sandals and socks.”

“Fuck.”

Mali places her drink down, elbow on the table as she gives Frankie her attention.

“So,” Mali starts. “How was your night after the open day?” Oh, hell.

“I’m not allowed to sleep with any rugby mums,” Frankie says in response.

“It’s officially not worth it.” Cam’s head turns to her so fast her clip wobbles a little on the back of her head.

Cam shakes her head lightly again, but it stays put, so Frankie fears she’s not getting out of this conversation with ease.

“ Again .”

Frankie rolls her eyes, but a smile makes its way onto her face. “That’s what I said.”

Cam laughs. “Did she make you work for it?”

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” Frankie grumbles. It’s true, the mum (Frankie can’t remember her name but she doesn’t feel bad about it because she really was rude) had it out for her the moment she turned up. Cam raises her eyebrow; she doesn’t care what Frankie did on the pitch.

“How many orgasms did you give her?” Cam asks, Mali leans closer as she waits for her answer. Vultures.

“Honestly,” Frankie replies, tapping her fingers on the top of the table. “I might shut the junior league down before it starts.”

“Frank.”

“Entitled parents drop demon spawns off on me —“

“You love kids.”

“And then I get attacked because they can’t hold a ball? ”

Cam smiles fondly but she’s not letting it go. “How many?”

Frankie sighs. “Four.”

“I can’t believe I don’t like women,” Cam groans, then she places a drink in front of Frankie. It’s the brightest blue she’s ever seen and says. “Oh, you’re not allowed to ditch us until the quiz is over.”

Frankie takes a sip. Very sugary, no aftertaste of vodka. That’s dangerous. She can’t be bothered to drink tonight, but she doesn’t want to sully the mood.

“Why would I?” Frankie asks, though she’s already regretting having to coach hungover tomorrow.

Cam looks at Mali, who takes another sip of her drink with her eyebrows high.

Mali will be hungover tomorrow and completely fine.

Zach will stroll in with a sausage sandwich or something, and she’ll be grand, while Frankie dies under her desk.

(Zach often offers to get her something too, but she thinks he makes them at home, and Frankie’s seen Buffy waltz over their kitchen countertops.

She’s not risking fur when she’s already dying.)

Calmly, Mali says, “We’ve spotted the hottest woman we’ve ever seen and you’re going to lose your shit.”

Frankie scoffs. “I am not.” She takes another sip. It goes down easy. Frankie can’t drink too much on her pills, but she gulps this down with ease. Her phone lights up with a text from Cam telling her the drink isn’t alcoholic. Cam always knows what Frankie needs.

“Go to the bar and you’ll see her, but you’re not allowed to leave.”

“You are so dramatic, and I already have a drink.”

“Yeah, but I’m out,” Cam says, swirling her empty glass, “and the Titans won today, so we should celebrate!”

“We were shit. Ezra and Kai were practically old ladies. We’re lucky the other team was worse.” It’s so early in the season that Frankie could let the team get away with it, but she doesn’t want to set a precedent .

“Ezra had allergies,” Cam says, with a shrug. She’s so unserious.

“You’d defend Ez if he tripped over his own foot.” Mali slurps the last of her drink. “But, Frank, I’m out too,” she says, placing her glass down.

“Why do I have to go?”

Mali looks at Cam with a smile, then shrugs. “Cam and I voted, and you lost.”

Frankie laughs. “You’re so annoying,” she says, but she’ll go anyway. It’s what she gets for being late.

Even though they’ve been best friends since they were kids, Frankie wonders if Cam likes Mali more than her. Something to mull over until it kills her later. “Who else is coming?” she asks.

“Ez and Zach.”

“No Kai?”

“I think he’s avoiding you for the next few days,” Mali replies. He’s so dramatic. Frankie didn’t even call him shit to his face.

“Fine,” Frankie replies, getting up. “But I’m getting singles.”

Mali laughs, and Cam pouts at her. They know she’s lying.

Frankie is a crowd-pleaser. Cam lets her be because she knows it makes her happy to be liked, but she refuses to let her be a pushover.

Once, someone asked Frankie to get them a coffee, but in a “ Darling, grab me a coffee” like she was the help kind of way, and she said yes, but Cam had sat on Frankie’s lap, because it was a ridiculous request and Frankie wasn’t allowed to do it.

She will take a drink, though, especially when Frankie’s late.

“Here come the team sheets,” Mali says, as the emcee starts touring the room, handing paper out to the various groups.

“Let’s win this fucker,” Cam responds, pulling her gel pen from her bag .

With a smile, Frankie makes her way to the bar.

She doesn’t always like to be out of the house, but she always likes Mali and Cam.

And Ezra and Zach are fine, she guesses.

She’d see Ezra at their parents anyway, and she and Zach aren’t friends—they’re friendly.

She doesn’t hate him or anything. They got over their drama from last year, but she’s not going out of her way to chat with him.

Kai is her friend, and she feels guilty that he isn’t coming.

Maybe her attempt at being a coach on the pitch and a friend off the pitch isn’t working.

Though there is a chance he’s using his poor performance as an excuse to get out of the quiz when, really, he’s getting his dick wet.

The nervousness that he might be sad swirls in her stomach.

She can be a hard-ass at times. She grabs her phone and shoots off a text asking if he’s alright.

After she’s ordered the drinks and dropped Ezra’s name to convince the barmaid they need table service, Frankie is ready to go back to the table.

As in, ready to make her legs move, not ready to chat.

Being bipolar is mostly fine. She has therapy and a whole load of pills.

Sometimes, it’s still a struggle. A click of the clock and she’s gone.

The energy to not cry is all she has, and sometimes not even that.

But she’ll be alright tonight, she’s sure of it.

Not everyone knows. Only Ezra and Cam. Most people think she’s sad or down, and that’s how she likes to keep things.

Otherwise, people start looking at her and reading too much into every movement she makes.

Someone will ask her if she took her pills that day because she’s frowning, and the only reason she’s frowning is because she saw an old man at the café, sitting alone.

She’ll make a hilarious joke about offing herself and then won’t be able to find her scissors for three days.

All this to say, she’d forgotten about the hottest woman Cam and Mali had ever seen.

Frankie remembers now, and she turns, feeling a gravitational pull towards the only woman they could possibly be talking about.

She sits behind their booth, with smouldering eyes and her hair wild with curls.

She’s stunning—dangerously so. She shouldn’t be able to walk around with that much power.

Her dark gaze, the way her lips shine even though she’s in a shadow.

The way that, even from across the bar, Frankie can see that her jawline is sharp. God, she’s so fucking hot.

They were right.

And the worst thing is, she’s looking right back at her.

Frankie is used to getting pretty women.

Pretty straight women glide into her arms. She may as well have the word “gay” illuminated above her, as if it’s a green triangle and she’s a Sim.

This woman can’t be straight. It would be a crime against humanity for her to like men.

Truly and honestly, what could a man have done to deserve to be in her presence?

Frankie’s never seen someone like her. She demands attention, and she’s not doing anything apart from sitting at a table, her ankles crossed and her shoulders back, casually powerful, like a statue in an old town.

Frankie can’t look away. It almost feels wrong to look elsewhere.

Frankie blinks, and the woman smiles at her.

“ Holy shit. ”